Johnlock fluff
by kittyspawn
Summary: I suck at summaries, but this story is cute. I promise.


John sighed, lounging farther into the couch behind him. He wasn't sure where Sherlock was, but at this moment, he couldn't be bothered to find out. He had had a rough day at the clinic, and was tired enough that he didn't care what Sherlock got himself into.

John looked toward the kitchen. _I could really use a cuppa._ He thought as he stood up, walked into the kitchen to brew a cup of tea. Since John was occupied, he didn't notice Sherlock walk into the living room.

Sherlock flopped down on the couch, taking up the whole thing. He settled his hands under his chin in his usual steeple-like position, looking like he was deep in thought. He was, in a way, but not the same way he usually was.

Sherlock heard John finishing up in the kitchen, and smirked slightly before quickly wiping it off his face so John wouldn't see. Judging by the fact that John still hadn't started yelling at Sherlock, he guessed John hadn't noticed his presence yet. He peeked an eye open to look at John to see he was looking into his tea while he stirred it.

Sherlock looked him up and down. _Tense shoulders, annoyed expression, tired eyes, coffee stain on his button down that wasn't there before he left this morning. Angle is hit the shirt, not his spill. Someone bumped into him with a cup of coffee then. Deliberately looking down, sign of defeat and exhaustion. Smell of perfume on him, and slight signs of lipstick on his sleeve. Obviously not put there on purposes, so an unwelcome advance on him by someone he has no interest in. Sings of three, no four, difficult clients. Stressed, uncomfortable, and looking like he's going to collapse soon. Better move for him then._

Sherlock sat up and moved off the couch without John noticing. He slipped behind John and laid a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump a bit. Sherlock led him to the couch and took his tea from him, setting it on the table. He grabbed the union jack pillow from a stack off boxes and set it on the couch, then laid John down on his stomach.

John was fairly confused through the whole thing, but didn't complain or resist. At this point he was so sick of the world, he would have let Moriarty tuck him into bed. He melted into the couch the moment Sherlock laid him down, but stiffened when he felt an added weight on his hips. He froze and searched for his voice.

"Sher-Sherlock? What are you doing?" He tensed even more when he felt long, thin fingers trail up his spine, applying light pressure. Then he felt Sherlock's hands cup his shoulders, applying pressure, and removing it almost as quickly. This went on in a pattern down John's back, slowly relaxing John's taunt muscles.

Sherlock smiled as he felt John relax completely under him. He trailed his thumbs up John's spine, one on either side, applying equal pressure on both sides. He heard John groan beneath him and widened his eyes. That moan was doing things to his body that it really shouldn't be.

Sherlock shifted slightly so there was little to no chance John could feel his growing erection. He circled his palms along John's shoulder blades, and bit his lip hard as John let out a moan so loud Sherlock was sure Mrs. Hudson heard it downstairs.

John was in heaven. His back was being worked on in all the right places in the right way, and it felt so good. He hated to admit it, but the pleasure of the massage was causing him a few problems that he shouldn't get from his male flatmate giving him a back massage. _I'm straight. I'm straight. I'm straight. I'm strai-_ He moaned as he felt Sherlock's long slim fingers slide up his spine again, interrupting his thoughts. He felt the weight on his hips get heavier for a second before is disappeared all together.

Sherlock noticed John didn't move as he got up. Smiling, Sherlock walked to the window, picking up his violin. He started playing something he had composed weeks ago, the tune starting off soft and sweet. He slowly became wrapped in the melody, the song flowing freely from his fingers firmly on the strings.

John looked up a bit, wanting to see Sherlock playing. He smiled when he saw Sherlock, eyes closed, swaying ever so slightly to the melody of his song. John sighed in contentment and closed his eyes, listening to the tune flow through the air, slowly feeling the darkness of sleep overcome his tired senses.

Sherlock heard a small, barely audible snore come from the couch and stopped playing. He looked back at the doctor and smiled, walking closer to him. _John really shouldn't sleep on the sofa, he'll wake up sore tomorrow._ Sherlock debated his choices and chose to take John upstairs so he could sleep in his bed. He reached down and slowly, gently, rolled John onto his back. Then he slid his arms under the doctor and picked him up, slowly carrying John up the stairs.

Sherlock reached Johns room and gently set him on the bed, sighing quietly as he looked over John. Without thinking, Sherlock started unbuttoning John's trousers, inching them off his legs and tossing them aside. Then Sherlock carefully unbuttoned John's shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it in the same direction as the trousers. Sherlock looked over john and nodded, throwing a blanket over John gently before leaving, closing the door behind him.

John blinked his eyes open as sunlight streamed through his window. He sat up, feeling better than he usually did in the mornings. He looked around his room. _How did- But I- I fell asleep on the couch, didn't I?_ John couldn't be to sure, but he was pretty sure that's what happened. _No matter,_ thought John, _I'll work things out later._ He crawled out of bed and threw a plain gray shirt on and a pair of trousers before heading down stairs.

Sherlock heard John walk down and smirked secretly. "How did you sleep, John?" He heard an intake of breath as John stretched.

"Fine, I slept fine. You?" Sherlock rolled his eyes from his spot at his microscope.

"Come now, John. You know the answer to that already, surely." He looked up at the doctor.

John sighed and rolled his eyes, starting the kettle. "You know, sleep really is good for you. You should try doing it more than once a week."

Sherlock shrugged. "It's oh so tedious though. Why waste time on sleep when there are many more interesting things to do?" John sighed.

"Some day, your stubbornness is going to be the end of you." Sherlock shrugged and got up, walking out to the couch. He sat down and pulled his phone out off his pocket, sighing when there was nothing new. He set his phone on the couch next to him and leaned against the cushions behind him.

John walked out and sat next to Sherlock, clicking on the telly. Sherlock looked at John from the corner of his eyes and sighed internally. _Now or never,_ Sherlock though as he turned towards John a bit more, wrapping his arms around the doctor. John froze.

"Sherlock?" Sherlock hummed from behind him, and nuzzled his noes into John's neck, effectively making John's breath catch in his throat. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" He looked back with a confused expression.

"John?" Sherlock's voice rumbled through his chest and into John's back. "...pass me my phone." John looked around for said phone, and saw it on the floor in front of Sherlock. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

Sherlock smiled secretly. Sure, he had kicked his own phone off the couch, but he knew John would get it for him, and that made him smile, gently kissing the back of John's neck. He felt John freeze in his arms, then started as John turned around, capturing Sherlock's lips with his own. Sherlock felt something cold press into his palm and looked down, chuckling when he saw his phone sitting in his hand.


End file.
